


Caretaker

by sproutingsun



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x12 - Freeform, Angst, Bipolar Ian, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutingsun/pseuds/sproutingsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Ian,” Mickey said softly, doing all that he could to keep his voice from faltering. Much as he had expected, there was no reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caretaker

**Author's Note:**

> i just got caught up on this show and i am so so emotional about the season 4 finale i have been crying about ian for days
> 
> watching lazarus i was waiting and waiting for mickey to try to comfort him but obviously he didn't or we didn't see it 
> 
> soooo this is basically what i desperately needed to happen at the end of the episode and what no one can convince me didn't actually happen bye
> 
> (this is very short and i am sorry)

Mickey hovered outside of the doorway, pressing his palms to the sides of his head, pacing in a small circle. The message taped to his door commanding visitors to “stay the fuck out” now seemed misplaced in speaker. Those words didn’t belong to his voice anymore. 

He placed his hands at his sides and gently closed his eyes, sucking in as much air as his lungs would hold. As he inhaled, his breath shook - evidence of tears ready to fall at any moment. He pushed the breath out forcefully, clenching his fists open and closed. Slowly, he took a step forward, leaving the light of the hallway and entering the shadow streaked blackness of his room, the room they had been sharing.

“Hey, Ian,” Mickey said softly, doing all that he could to keep his voice from faltering.  
Much as he had expected, there was no reply. He felt a crushing in his ribcage and a swirling in his gut.

He placed one foot in front of the other until he was far enough inside to shut the door behind him. The light from the hall tiptoed across the room and over Ian’s still figure until it vanished completely into the dark. Mickey moved towards the bed and balanced on the edge, angling his body towards a nearly comatose Ian. He stared at his silhouette, half-a-million words on the tip of his tongue, but said nothing. The silence was frigid, the darkness numbing. 

Mickey sat there for minutes, feeling the heaviest pressing of unsureness he'd ever felt. He had always been in the business of searching out quick fixes to his problems and at this moment he could think of exactly zero solutions. He placed his head in his hands.

Eventually he just crawled across the bed, stopping next to Ian, and slid slowly under the covers. He rolled to rest on his side. Timidly, he lifted an arm and wrapped it around Ian’s body above the blanket he had swaddled himself in and pulled him into a warm embrace that juxtaposed the coolness of the air. Mickey gently placed a kiss on the back of the boy’s head.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I just want to let you know something.” 

Mickey hesitated, leaving space for a response he knew would not come. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m here, and I’m gonna look after you," he said. "So you don’t need to worry, okay? About anything. Not even your stupid fucking job, or the goddamn Army, or whatever.” He paused, staring up at the blank ceiling. “Your sorry ass is going to be under my protection whether you like it or not, so you better get used to it.”

Mickey squeezed him a little bit tighter. Maybe he’d expected for Ian to push him away, or to mumble and snap at him to leave, but there was no protest, just the closeness and the stillness of the cold night. 

He probably couldn’t fix everything right then. But it was a start.


End file.
